Return
by Romanxx
Summary: When Toshinori's wife is taken away for a crime she did not commit, he's left alone to raise their five year old son Masaki. But ten years later, when she returns out of the blue.. her son hates her. She must regain his love, while dealing with the fact that she had been wrongly imprisoned for ten entire years, among other things..
1. Disappearance

_A cry rang out in the warm, white room. Crowded by nurses and various doctors, they quieted as they watched the bundle in wrapped in blue. A nurse had been holding the child for only a moment, before it began to cry. The nurse, hurrying over, laid the child in a woman's arm with the utmost gentleness. The woman holding him, smiled down with warm gray eyes and unabashed love for the infant. He was so sweet looking, even as he cried, a patch of purple hair atop his small head. Looking up from the bundle, she glanced around before beckoning over a certain man. She smiled as she lifted the crook of her arm in the slightest, so he could see the child._

" _Toshinori, come see him.. he's beautiful." Her voice was soft, and sweetened as she spoke._

 _The skeleton of a man, with wild blonde hair in every which way had made his way to the side of the bed. He seemed almost fearful. What if the child began to cry even more, due to his appearance? For a moment, he had wished he was as All Might, a strong and courageous man who never made children cry. He was taken by surprise though as the child began to quiet upon him nearing. He was almost quiet now, the previous sobs dying down quickly. Small eyes fluttered open, bright baby blues staring back up. And with that, the child gurgled with a toothless smile as he reached for his father._

' _He smiled..' Was his on_ ly thought, as he watched the child with a soft gaze.

" _Toshinori, let's name him. How about M.."_

A call rang out through the house, with a cheery tune to it. "Toshinori! Masaki! Lunch is ready!"

The woman stood at the counter, clad in a blue long sleeved shirt, and a pair of leggings. She turned back to what she had been doing previously, finishing up on ladling the sauce onto the rice. As she heard thumping, a small blur flew down the stairs in glee. He stopped once he was in the kitchen, the small head of violet hair messy and unkempt. She reached out, attempting to smooth down the mess of hair even a bit, but to no avail. She chuckled as she gazed down at the five year old, who was staring up with unbidden excitement. He spoke eagerly, the small chip in his tooth showing as he did so. "What's for lunch!? I'm _sooo_ hungry mama!"

Before she could answer him, the figure of her beloved appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against it with a fond look as he watched his wife and son. Stepping closer to the two, he reached out, his long fingers brushing through Masaki's hair as he ruffled it. He grinned down at him as the child turned to him, enveloping his legs in a hug. Toshinori chuckled as he pet his head, leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss to his wife's cheek. Hisoka giggled, with a sweet smile she gestured to the three plates on the counter. "I made curry today, why don't you go and wash up Masaki? And remember sweetheart, no action figures at the table."

"Yeah, okay mama.. I'll be right back! I can't wait to have some curry!" He giggled as he slipped from between his parents, and back up the stairs. As he rounded the corner, Toshinori made for his wife. Standing behind her, he wrapped his long arms around her in a languid fashion, resting his head on her shoulder. She smiled, placing the wooden spoon back into the pot before clasping her hands over his own. He gazed up at her with a sparkle in his eye, a smile crossing his face. "I still don't know how an old man like me managed to get so lucky."

With a chuckle, she turned her head towards his and pressed a soft kiss to his temple. "You're not old, silly. And -" She was interrupted mid-sentence with a loud knock, and she jumped slightly. Pulling from his arms, she pressed a kiss against his lips before continuing to move away.

"I'll get it, don't worry. I wonder who it is though.." She mused quietly, Toshinori watching her as she moved. She stopped before the white door, pulling it open with a polite smile as she was ready to greet whomever was at her doorstep. Only to stop, with a confused look as she stared at the pair before her.

Two officers stood there, one inching forward a bit before speaking with a heavy tone. "Hisoka Yagi?" With a hand placed over her chest, she nodded slowly. "Ah, yes.. that would be me. Is there something I could he-"

She was stopped mid-sentence as she was pushed against the frame of her door. She let out a yelp as it happened, straining to see behind her as she was restrained. She heard a click, cold metal encircling her wrists as she was held there. "You are under arrest for the murder of Masamune Sato."

She gawked, wide eyes as though a deer caught in the headlights. "Wh-" "Anything you say can, and will be held against you." Toshinori had come through from the kitchen, having overheard the small commotion. Only to be shocked, staring as his wife was pinned and cuffed against the doorframe. She stared back at him now, eyes connecting with a look of fear. He reached out, only to pause as an officer held out a hand.

"W-What the hell is going on he- Hrrk!" He stopped, clamping a hand over his mouth as blood spurt out. The officer seemed surprised at that, before making his way around his partner and towards the man. With a cautious hand, he appeared concerned as he aimed to place it on his shoulder. He spoke with worry, "Sir, are you injured?"

He moved away slightly, shaking his head as he wiped away the blood. If Masaki came down.. shit. "N-No, it's my condition.." "Should I call a doctor, or something?"

He shook his head once more, attempting to step away. He was shook though as something small slammed into him. Looking down, and behind him he saw the confused gaze of Masaki. He clutched onto the leg of his pants as he gazed out at the officers. His voice was small, and shaky as he spoke, fear now evident. "Papa, w-what are they doing to mama? Are they.. taking mama?"

He reached down, grasping his son's shoulder. He wrapped another arm around him as Masaki thrust himself forward with an outstretched hand. Reaching for his mother, as the two officers began to draw her away. She gazed back, tears bubbling and slipping down her cheeks as she watched the two before her head was shoved down roughly, and pushed into the back of the car. Masaki sobbed, crying as he struggled for the open door, heartbroken calls echoing.

" _Mama! Mama come back! Don't take her!"_


	2. Arrival

_I never forgave her for that. How much pain she had caused dad, and how she could have been so selfish as to take the life of another. What kind of mother was she?_ He thought darkly, pushing back the horrid memory of when his mother disappeared from his life entirely. She was gone. And he hated her. He hated how his violet hair was _exactly_ like hers, dying it often. Usually jet black, and as of now it was fading. He grimaced as he inspected the coloring of his hair, violet twinges and streaks peeking through. He'd have to get some more dye soon.

His quirk had manifested right around the time his mother had left, just a few weeks after. He was so happy, when he saw the fire spout from his hands, and anywhere else he could imagine. And when he touched himself with it, it didn't even _hurt!_ He had noticed soon after, that hot things didn't bother him. At one point, his hand had landed atop a hot stove on accident, reaching for something. While his father had been horrified, he had just looked at his hand, which hadn't even turned red.

He hated it now, how it reminded him of _her._ He remembered the stories his father would tell him of his mother, when she had gone. She had been an amazing hero, going by the name of _Cherry Bomb!_ After meeting, the two had often teamed up against villains in their later days, the crime rates dropping even lower when he had been around. Together. But he had retired long ago, his protégé taking over for him. He had been surprised to hear that he had trained his _favorite hero ever!_ The almighty Deku, clad in green and always saving the day! At least, that was always how he had thought about him, his room plastered with posters of him, and his favorite action figure being Deku.

He had never outright done it, not in open.. but he could still recall the sniffling, and soft sobbing of his father behind a closed door. Once, he had even seen it. His father had been holding a picture frame, gazing down with dark eyes and hiccuping sobs. He hated when that happened, only because that meant the one person who actually _cared_ about him was in pain. He never knew what to do about it. He always only ever heard good things about _her_ when he spoke, and how she must not have _really_ done it. They must have been mistaken, or that she was framed.

He never really believed any of that, but only at the age of seven had he _truly_ comprehended just where his mother went. _Prison._ That word had stayed in his mind, excessively as a child. He was ashamed growing up, with a parent having committed such an atrocious crime. Whenever asked about her, he simply said that she had been taken away, and never elaborated on it. Most assumed she was dead. He didn't care either way, to him she might as well have been.

Toshinori had barely managed to get through after his wife had been taken away. He couldn't believe it, that she would do something like that to someone. She had been a _hero,_ and one of the most amazing he'd known. She was a fiery spirit in her prime, at times even doing risky, stupid things for the sake of others. If there had been someone in trouble, she would have walked through hell just to get to them. It just wasn't in her _nature_ to hurt an innocent person, let alone _kill_ them. He refused to believe that she had been the true culprit of the crime.

But for the sake of his son, he had to shape up, and act strong. For _him._ But there were some days in which he couldn't help the tears that came, their room—No, _his room,_ now, always seemed so gloomy. It pained him that in the night, he would see her smiling at him with bright eyes.. but when he awoke, the side she always had been on was cold, and empty. He cherished the photo that always remained at his bedside, of him and Hisoka, on the day of their wedding. She looked so _beautiful_ in that photo. But she had always been beautiful in his eyes, even when she didn't find herself that way.

He had been drawn from his thoughts, as he could hear the roll of tires, heavy on the pavement of his driveway. His brow furrowed, as he slowly pulled himself up from the couch. He had been wrapped with a blanket, the fall chill getting to him even in his home. Though, he left it behind as he made his way towards the window, but brought the mug of warm tea. But he watched as the black van quickly pulled out, and drove off from the way he assumed it came. It had just been someone turning around then..

Turning away, he had been jolted slightly with surprise as a soft knock sounded at his door. But—the van had left, he _saw_ it. Why would somebody be at his door? He furrowed his brow as he made his way towards the white door instead, and with that, he opened it slowly. What he had been greeted with, made him drop the mug to the hard floor, the white ceramic instantly shattering upon contact. Despite the wetness at the edge of his pants, he held his hand over his mouth with wide eyes. Trembling, tears began at the edges of his eyes.

Standing before him, was _Hisoka._ Ten years, it had been _ten whole years_ since he had last seen her. And she looked just as beautiful as he had remembered. Though, now her violet hair was longer, reaching her shoulders in a messy cut, bags beneath her now tired gray eyes. Her lips, chapped and quirked up in a hopeful smile. "Toshinori.."

He reached out to her, hand shaking as he gently placed the long fingers of his hand, still coarse against the softness of her cheek. This wasn't another dream, this was real. _She_ was real. And he choked on a sob as he immediately enveloped her in a tight hug, arms curling around her small figure. He buried his face in the crook of her neck as he sobbed, shaking. Her hands were on his back with a gentle touch, as tears ran down her own cheeks. _Happy_ tears.

Hisoka had her doubts when she had been released, fear bubbling on the way to her old home. What if they had moved, and didn't even _live_ there anymore? Even if they did, there wasn't anything to say that Toshinori hadn't remarried in his time alone. She wouldn't know what to do if he had. Where would she go? She attempted to push back these worries, but couldn't do anything as they came back with a vengeance. She was already regretting this decision, as she came upon her old home. It looked.. exactly the same, as when she had left it. If not a bit unkempt.

As she got out of the van, she moved slowly with her heart pounding in her chest. Walking up the few steps she never thought she feel beneath her feet again, her heart leapt into her throat as she raised her hand to the door. Nausea was washing over her, as she felt the need to almost throw up from the anxiety that was clawing at her. What if he didn't love her anymore? What if when he saw her, he would slam the door shut in her face? She took the risk, as she knocked against the door, waiting.

Masaki had been drawn out by the sound of glass shattering, and then.. _sobbing?_ But it wasn't coming from his father's room, instead it was downstairs in the hallway. As he crept down the stairs, worry began to bubble up. Was his father alright? As he came upon where his father was, he stopped. He was.. crying, while hugging someone. His shoulders and hair blocked the view of who it was though, but he spoke carefully, seemingly surprising him. "Dad..? What's going on?" Who was that? That was his unspoken question, hanging in the air.

His father lifted his head, looking back at his son with _happy,_ glowing blue eyes. He moved away, revealing someone he never thought he would see again. _His mother._ He knew that color of hair, those gray eyes. And he was disgusted, at the fact that she had the gall to actually _come here._ He was angry, and it showed as he spoke. "What the _hell_ is she doing here?"

They were both shocked, her eyes widening as hurt was evident. She spoke quietly, with a shaky voice. "M-Masaki-" _"Don't._ Say my name.." He hissed, as he stared her down with an enraged glare. He had never believed that she was innocent, he sure as hell didn't now. She was probably some sort of escaped convict, if anything. He couldn't forgive her, not for how she made the _both_ of them hurt for years. For his father, the pain was longing, and pining away for a lover he thought would never return to him. For him, it was something that formed into an anger-filled hatred. As he stomped back into his room, he slammed the door shut, making _sure_ she could hear it.


End file.
